


sweater theft

by supremekermit



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Polyamory, literally just fluff, renjun in a crop top
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-15
Updated: 2018-09-15
Packaged: 2019-07-12 19:05:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16001417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supremekermit/pseuds/supremekermit
Summary: renjun has an affinity for his boyfriends' clothes. jaemin and jeno have nothing to wear.





	sweater theft

This is it.

Jaemin’s had enough.

His left eye is set to start twitching any moment as he takes in the sight in front of him. A gaping hole in his closet, in the exact place where all of his hoodies should hang. Except now, there’s only empty hangers. Jaemin is _positive_ he’d just done the laundry a few days ago. He really did, so there’s should be no valid explanation for why half of his closet is gone.

But Jaemin has a solid hunch.

Sliding the closet shut, he sucks in a deep breathe. Just then, the bedroom door slams open and a frazzled Jeno hurries through. He scans the room, as if looking for something, before meeting Jaemin’s eyes with a kindred resignation.

“Missing your shirt?”

Jeno nods. “Missing your hoodie?”

Jaemin walks toward Jeno with a sigh. Jeno echoes it, sliding his arm around Jaemin’s waist. They know the exact culprit.

_Renjun._

 

As all things related to Renjun tend to be, the thievery takes root in an innocuous beginning.

It was one of their first dates as three, a miraculous feat after a series of untimely confessions. The air was brisk and the slight wind carried with it the assorted scents of the county fair, a cloying mixture of cotton candy and corn dog grease. After gorging on funnel cakes and acquiring the softest plushie possible from a ring toss game (per Jaemin’s insistence), they’d decided to call it a day.

They were on the way back to Jeno’s car, Jeno on Renjun’s left while Jaemin monopolized his right. Jaemin had taken the opportunity to lace his fingers through Renjun’s, sending a cheeky grin his way when the boy had startled.

They’re but a few rows from Jeno’s beat-up blue Toyota when the wind picked up. Renjun shivered, only to still when he found two pairs of eyes on him.

“What?”

Jeno and Jaemin shared a look. Renjun had shown up to their date in the single cutest pair of overalls the two boys had ever laid their eyes on, complete with paint splatter on shin that was probably more accidental than intentional. Underneath, he wore a simple longsleeve, the bottom of the shirt cropped so that bits of skin peeks through between the gaps of the overalls. Needless to say, the two layers weren’t adequate insulation for the weather.

“Are you cold?” Jaemin asked.

Renjun shook his head, even as Jaemin could feel the obvious tension in his muscle. “No, I’m fine.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Not cold—“ Another gust of wind blew by, rustling distant leaves. Renjun’s jaw tensed. “Not cold at all.”

Before Jaemin could raise his eyebrows and offer his two cents on Renjun’s exact definition of “not cold”, there’s a flurry of movement and Renjun’s face became obscured by a mass of fabric.

“It’s cold,” Jeno offered, softly. “You should put on the sweater before you get sick.”

There’s a sound of muffled protest from the underneath the dark cotton, something not far from “That doesn’t even make any sense”. Yet, Renjun’s pretty little head popped through the neck of the hoodie, mouth pouting as he pulled down the garment.

Jeno himself was sweater-less now, toned arms and shoulders on broad display in his singlet. Jaemin would have been concerned if Jeno hadn’t seem completely unbothered, striding forward to unlock his car.

“Aren’t _you_ going to be cold now?” Renjun countered. The hoodie was nothing short of oversized on him, the hem of the sleeve reaching past his slender fingers. Jaemin blamed his accelerating heart rate on the adorable sight.

Jeno shrugged, opening the backseat door and motioning for Renjun to slide in. “Nah.”

The drive back to Renjun’s dorm was uneventful, but comfortable. By the time they reached the dorms and Renjun had bid them goodnight with a set of sweater paws, Jaemin knows he’s done for.

He turned to Jeno, whose hand had found its way to Jaemin’s knee.

“We’re screwed.”

 

Slowly but surely, things start to disappear from Jeno’s closet. At first, it’s a old band tee, worn out in the best possible way. He digs and digs through his drawers to no fruition, only to see it when Renjun shows up to their lecture with a sheepish smile. Then, it’s a fairly new hoodie, a limited-edition drop that Jeno had barely managed to snag. After a week of panic, he finds it carefully folded on his couch, right on the spot where Renjun likes to nap. The theft is slow and subtle, spiking little disturbances here and there until one day, Renjun opens his drawers and declares, “We need to buy more shirts.”

“We?” Jaemin asks. He’s plastered on Jeno’s side, one arm thrown over Jeno’s torso as his head rests on Jeno’s chest.

Renjun turns and raises an eyebrow. “Did I stutter?”

“No,” Jaemin concedes with a sigh. He sits up, stretching his arms to welcome the smaller boy. Renjun ambles forth with a smug smile and Jeno notices with no less resignation that the shirt he’d been looking for this morning is stretched over Renjun’s small form, neck loose to reveal a hint of sharp collarbones.

Jeno and Jaemin shift to accommodate as the small boy wiggles into a space between them. Renjun all but lets out a purr when Jeno’s hands find their way to Renjun’s neck, and sinks into the touch.

“I don’t have anything to wear anymore,” Renjun says. His hands sneak down to play with Jaemin’s fingers.

Jeno laughs, incredulous. “You mean, _Jaemin and I_ don’t have anything to wear anymore.”

Jaemin nods. “Half of my closet is empty, Junie. What do you have to say about that?”

“I don’t know. Maybe buy more clothes?” Renjun avoids their eyes, intent on fixing the hem of his (Jeno’s) shirt with an air of nonchalance.

“Or maybe,” Jeno says, inching closer with a mischievous smile. “You could stop stealing our clothes?”

Jaemin hums out a sound of agreement, twisting so that Renjun falls backwards onto the soft covers of Jeno’s bed. Wary, Renjun narrows his eyes.

“It’s not theft,” Renjun reasons. He stares at Jaemin’s hovering fingers with disdain. “It’s called sharing-”

Any coherent words become lost to shrieks as the Jaemin snakes his hand underneath Renjun’s shirt to tickle the  boy. Despite Renjun’s fervent convulsions, Jaemin has him pinned down, aided by Jeno’s firm grip on Renjun’s legs.

“I’m-” Renjun lets out a yelp as Jaemin’s finger work their way to the small of his back. Jeno laughs, sliding his own fingers to back of Renjun’s knees. “Breaking up— With both of you!”

Jaemin laughs into Renjun’s reddening neck. “This is justice.”

When they finally let go, Renjun wrenches away, hissing as he scurries to the other side of the bed. “Demons,” he sputters, leveling his boyfriends with a glare. His hair is a mess of fluffy tufts, freshly dyed hair sticking up in opposite directions. “Don’t you dare come near me again.”

The words hold no actual truth, of course, when Renjun unceremoniously crawls back towards them after a solid hour of pouting and sinks his way into the crook of Jaemin’s arm. In a matter of minutes, Renjun is unconscious. He snores softly, unaware of the coos Jaemin makes as he snaps a series of photos.

“You’re gonna wake him up,” Jeno says, but humors Jaemin when he asks which photo he should set as his lock screen.

Satisfied, Jaemin leans down to place a gentle kiss on Renjun’s forehead. “You’re so pretty,” he whispers. The boy stirs, yet he stays asleep, burrowing closer to Jaemin’s side.

Jaemin turns to Jeno and oh no, Jeno knows that look in his eyes.

“Babe, grab your laptop. We have some shopping to do.”

 

In Renjun’s defense, he gets cold easily. That, and he happens to have an affinity for drowning his small frame in the biggest, softest clothes possible and his boyfriends’ collection of t-shirt and hoodies just happen to be the most accessible. Really, it’s a matter of convenience.

At least that’s what he tell himself as he rifles through Jaemin’s closet, in search of yet another hoodie to borrow. Borrow in quotation marks, because he’ll probably take it back to his dorm later to wear for a few more days, at least until Jaemin’s scent fades and he has to acquire another one.

When he finds what he’s been looking for, he shrugs it on with satisfaction. It’s huge. The plush white hoodie reaches past the hem of his little lounge shorts, stopping only short of mid thigh. Pleased, Renjun skips off to the living room, sketchbook in hand.

Just as he’s about to settle down, he spies a flash of royal blue from the corner of his eye. It’s wedged in a pile of neatly folded laundry, in the corner of the room. Like a moth to a light, Renjun edges close before carefully pulling the garment free.

It’s Jeno’s basketball jersey. Renjun smiles at the thought of matching with his boyfriend as he tugs on the jersey and waddles back to the couch, comfy as can be.

He doesn’t know exactly how or when he falls asleep, but when he comes to, he’s wedged in between Jaemin and Jeno. They’re a mess of limbs, sprawled out on what must be Jaemin’s bed, judging from the plushies sitting at Renjun’s feet. Jaemin’s face is buried in Renjun’s shoulder, while Jeno’s arms are wound around his torso, blanketing the boy in warmth.

They must have carried Renjun to bed after they got home. On any conscious occasion, Renjun would have protested at the thought of being manhandled but for now, he simply sighs and falls back to sleep.

 

Bonus:

Renjun stares, jaws slacked as he takes in scene in front of him.

“No way.”

Jaemin smirks, adjusting the raw hem of Renjun’s most prized crop tops so that it displays a tantalizing stretch of skin. Beside him, Jeno is indifferent. The fabric of Renjun’s cropped tank top is stretched over his athletic body, an embroidered warning sign splayed across his chest. He makes no acknowledgment of Renjun’s rapidly deteriorating sanity as he continues to scroll through his phone, save for a smile that tugs at the edge of his lips.

The bag in Renjun’s hand slips, clattering to the floor. His jars of paint roll across the room.

Jaemin laughs. “Yes way.”

**Author's Note:**

> another messy installment of my crop top regime.
> 
> based on [this tweet](https://twitter.com/dre2smith/status/1039302602306015232)
> 
> talk to me about renjun's thieving ways on:  
> [twt](https://twitter.com/supremekermit3) | [cc](https://curiouscat.me/supremekermit)


End file.
